


The Season For It

by blue_sun



Series: Twice A Year [1]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angela bear-maces a vampire, Beast Mode Sex, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forest Sex, Jacob needs a bucket of icewater in the face, Masturbation, Mid-Canon, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Werewolves in Heat, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_sun/pseuds/blue_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mid-New Moon. Angela takes walks with her camera sometimes to clear her head. With no new missing campers and with a few shots in the bag, she decides to take a little extra time before returning home. Jacob, days into his new body, is out patrolling for Laurent when he hears something off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A twig snapped like a gunshot in Jacob's newly-acute hearing. He jumped back a step. Cursing his luck at finding what had to be the only dry stick in the Olympic Peninsula, he cocked his ears. A full ten seconds went by. No change.

Letting out a breath, he continued toward the out-of-place sound.

Why would someone be have a radio on in the forest? Hipster photoshoot? Townie stoners?

Okay, so not everyone was so aware of the stupidity of wandering around the forest while there was an infestation of _bloodsuckers_ living next door. And not everyone knew that now was _especially_ dangerous with that nomad vamp the pack had scented still running loose.

But seriously: why. Why would you be that moronic? The day had been fine, sure – by Washington standards – but come on. That didn’t explain why he was hearing music way out here.

Common sense said _don’t_ go into the dark scary forest after the sun goes down. Didn’t it?

The music continued. Now a melody had began to creep into the bass pulsing through the earth underfoot. Jacob padded forward. His tail brushed through the damp mast of the forest floor as he sank to his belly to sneak up to the clearing where the music originated.

Just short of the treeline, he stopped dead.

Someone was dancing around in the moonlight. Half-naked.

Sure, okay, she _was_ clothed. Sort of. Running tights and a loose wifebeater didn’t go a long way in these woods. And she might as well have been bare-assed for the way she was moving.

The girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen, swayed her body like kelp caught in a swell—or as if possessed by demons.

Were demons real? He’d have to ask Sam later.

Her hands trailed up and down her sides: now tangled in her hair, now cupped around her knees as she rocked down to the grass.

Jacob cocked an invisible eyebrow. Right. She couldn't have found some quiet little corner of _town_ to practice for her talent contest? He rested his chin on the leaf litter, eyes fixed on the girl. There was something a little shy to her movements—a catch here or there. A pause. Every so often she glanced back at something in the grass. Speakers, he guessed. Cheap ones. The sound had a tinny quality.

What the hell was she doing out here?

The song ended. The next was slower, something with a forties croon to it. Sexy—but not what she wanted. The girl huffed and opened her eyes. Turning, she crouched down in the grass to fiddle with the music. The song changed: faster. Heavier beat. She straightened. Hands on her thighs, she stood with eyes closed for a minute, letting the opening swell around her. Her fingers began to tap the beat on her thighs. Her head started to sway, nodding in time with her fingers. As if of their own accord, her hips began to swing.

“ _Crawling back to you—”_

Jacob narrowed his eyes. Maybe she was with the bloodsuckers.

No; she wasn't 'glittery', he thought with the emphasis of disgust. Human then. Didn't she know it was dangerous to be out in the middle of Buttsville, Nowhere in a forest at night? Especially this forest.

She slid her hands up her thighs, straying around to brush the small of her back. Her lips drifted apart with the beginnings of a smile, eyes still squeezed shut.

Maybe she _didn't_ know. She looked vaguely familiar. He thought he’d seen her face before.

Had she been one of the girls waiting for Bella? She was unusually tall. Jacob couldn’t put a name to the face, but he had an impression of something missing.

Glasses. She should be wearing some.

A memory which was not his own presented itself: this girl, damp in a purple parker, stumbling backward off a trail away from him—himself tensing with a burst of adrenaline – _caught!_ – and bolting, the whip of greenery on his face—

An instinct rose in Jacob, new but familiar: he should tell Sam. The rest of the pack was back in La Push, barbequing skewers for dinner at Emily’s. Jacob had wanted to stretch his wolf legs. Now he was thinking that was a very lucky twist of fate. He should report to Sam. The Alpha had to know people were wandering around in dangerous territory, what with that reek of vamp they’d caught earlier today... but Jacob didn't want to leave.

He stayed where he was.

The girl danced on, oblivious. The music had her. Her hips rolled with it. Long black hair tied in pigtails slid back and forth over her shoulders; bangs flopped over her eyes. Smiling broadly, she tousled them further.

Not a fighter then. And not particularly aware of her surroundings.

Jacob huffed. Stupid. She was _asking_ to be sneaked up on.

With a shift in position he could see the speakers: a small set on the ground by a rock. At the moment they pumped out _Muse_ 's 'Sunburn'. Something dark was draped across the rock—maybe a jacket. So she hadn't come out here half-naked, she was just in the habit of stripping off in random locations. Great. He’d tell Jared; Jared had a thing for exhibitionists.

A canvas bag sagged against the rock, the black curve of a capped camera lens just visible inside. Beside it was a set of discarded hiking boots, laces fuzzy and frayed. His eyes strayed back to the girl— now swinging her hips in time to the hypnotic beat.

Actually, she was a pretty good dancer. He wriggled, settling in the damp leaf litter. It was like she was straining to actually melt into the music. There was something – what was Quil’s word of the week? – ‘sensual’ about her movements. No, scratch that: _sexual_.

Her hands draped themselves on her hips, sliding up and down with rhythmic languor, caressed her stomach, arched towards the sky as she shook out her braids... He jumped guiltily as those hands dragged down her neck and forward over the swell of her breasts, pulling the wifebeater tight over them for a second. But she only did it once, biting her lip. As if she was embarrassed by her own boldness.

Jacob had a passing thought to wonder what that would feel like if they were _his_ hands – and Bella’s breasts – but the girl’s swinging hips caught his attention again.

It was enthralling to watch. She rotated her hips to the rhythm and rolled her ribcage, dancing with her eyes shut. The beat picked up. So did her pace: faster now—more seduction in every move. Her hands gravitated towards her hips, ribs, thighs… Like she wanted to touch herself but didn't dare. Jacob shifted forwards unconsciously, the shape of her burning into his eyes as she etched herself on the insides of his eyelids. All thoughts of Bella forgotten, he focused solely on Her in the clearing, images burning and re-burning into his eyelids with each beat. The wind shifted, carrying the mingled scents of sweat and shampoo to his nose. Jacob sniffed again, tilting his head. She smelled good. Really good. Another scent underlaid the first two; he ignored it, unable to put a name to the taste on the breeze.

Again, there was a shift in the pace when the song changed. He almost snorted. _Boys of Summer_. Really?

The girl was familiar with the song, mouthing the lyrics as she swayed. At this point, he'd almost forgive her for wandering into the middle of the Olympic Peninsula Reserve, just so long as she kept moving. A whine forced its way out of his throat but he kept absolutely still, ignoring the warmth flickering to life low in his body.

Her courage had doubled; she let go with the music. Dropping into the grass, she slid her hands down her thighs and parted her knees in a crouch. She came up dragging her hands over the crotch of the tights. They caught the wifebeater on the way up, baring over her midriff, then dropped it and skimmed over her chest. This time they paused and cupped her breasts for such a brief second Jacob was sure he had imagined it. Her bottom lip sucked into her mouth. Releasing her breasts, both hands flowed up one side of her neck together and into the air.

Jacob remembered to breathe.

The girl swayed and gyrated to the slower beat of a verse. The the gap between tights and top, her hip flexors rippled. Another chorus burst from the speakers. The tempo picked up. The girl ran her hands up her sides. On the return this time, they bypassed her chest and curled around her hips. Jacob’s eyes widened. Splaying her fingers over the back seams of her tights, she bent at the hips and pushed her rear out in a full circle, rolling her shoulders as she straightened. The beat hit a climax.

She opened her eyes and looked straight at where Jacob was hidden.

He tensed, crouched fully phased on the ground. For a split second, their eyes met and a bolt of electricity scorched through Jacob's body—everything from his nose to the tip of his tail electrified.

No way had she just seen him. No way! ‘ _Fuck!_ ’

Wait. Hold. Sam’s voice in the back of his head, steady as the tide: _Hold._

Jacob must have been mistaken. She apparently hadn't seen him: she merely blinked and continued scanning the clearing, feeling something off, maybe. She hadn't stopped dancing, whatever unease she felt, and after a moment she let her eyes drift closed again. With her drop in attention, her concentration turned inward—exactly where Jacob’s awakening sex drive wanted it to go. The movements, sinuous she touched herself with increasing fervour, became blatantly erotic.

Leaves crumpled beneath Jacob as he rocked forward, pushing down. The pressure sent frisson up his spine. Jacob faltered, jaw dropping open. Trying to repeat the sensation, his hind legs splayed further and his hips pressed harder against the forest floor. The foliage of his concealing tree brushing his fur was distracting, but not enough to drag him away from watching. The girl brushed her fingers over her cheek and sucked the tips of two teasingly into her mouth, letting them catch on her lower lip. Jacob jerked as his hips pumped forward. The corners of his mouth pulled down: they had done that of their own accord.

He froze, realising abruptly what he had been unconsciously doing. Deprived of friction, his groin throbbed.

How had he honestly not noticed? In the clearing, the girl threw her hips out in another grass-flattening drop and undulated on the rise. Her fingers toyed with the hem of the wifebeater. Her other hand wrapped around a strap and tugged it off her shoulder, sliding underneath to stroke her collarbone.

Jacob swallowed hard. Ah.

It was more than that though, he thought, biting his lip as a spike of heat lanced through him; the girl had just dipped a thumb under the waistband of her tights. But he wasn't so out of control he could get off by watching girls dance, however raging his hormones might have been. So...?

Ah, clarity: Sam had mentioned something in passing about 'going into heat’ as part of growing into the wolf-self, only he called it 'rut'. Like deer. And he said it might happen in December.

Jacob hadn't really paid much attention. (He remembered sniggering a lot.) He shoulda known that would come back to bite him in the ass.

He grimaced. It would have been nice to get a little more warning than Sam's vague comment, though. Still, there was a simple way to deal with it. If he was game. Not like he hadn’t done it a thousand times before… but in the open? To an actual girl, not just his own imagination?

Another pulse of painful heat informed him that, yes, he _was_ game. He was never going to live this one down, he lamented. He rocked back onto his haunches. Scanning the surrounding woods briefly, he phased back to human form. Note to self: shifting with a hard-on: not recommended.

He had a hand on himself before reality struck back with a vengeance. Knowing he had to be bright red, Jacob sent up a prayer of thanks that none of the pack were around. If they had been, he would never _ever_ live this down. As it was...

The music flowed into a husky male voice growling about sending an angel. Jacob’s eyes flicked away from the dark trees to the girl in time to see her palm her crotch in earnest, tongue flicking out over her upper lip. His hand clenched and he bit back a grunt. The darkness of the trees should hide his smaller human silhouette better than his larger wolf one. Just the same, he crouched lower to the ground, ignoring the sharp small of sap from the plants grinding under his knees. 

He’d thought his libido, to use Emily’s word, was being optimistic but hell if he sat there long enough he could jerk off to a girl getting _herself_ off.

No: he needed this _now_. What she did was her own business, just so long as she didn’t stop. Jacob shook off his embarrassment and got comfortable. It wasn't like she would know...

He hissed as he readjusted his grip and flicked his wrist a few times experimentally before setting the pace best timed to bring himself off faster. No sense in drawing it out. He realised it might be a while before he had this opportunity again – if ever – but the thought of putting himself off just for that was too torturous to even contemplate.

He kept his eyes fixed on the writhing figure and bit back his moans while he stroked himself. Who needed an imagination when they had this? Just the same, he figured he'd have a few music-themed dreams before the month was out.

The girl fully cupped her breasts now, squeezing and kneading as she twisted her hips. Her nipples stood out clearly against the light grey of her wifebeater. Jacob now freely gave in to the urge to imagine doing that to a girl—heck, to _her_. Bella was barely a ghost in his memory at this point. He pictured the warm fullness in his hands, nipples hard against his palms…

He chewed his lip, leaning forward, and threw a twist into his strokes.

He imagined pulling her into his lap, sucking her tongue into his mouth as he dove a hand into those little tights he was starting to hate. In his head, he discovered she had no panties on beneath the lycra.

He nearly groaned aloud--and then caught himself. The heat coiling low in his abdomen redoubled. That same scent curled around him like wood-smoke, tantalisingly familiar but maddeningly elusive. It was musky and rich. Peculiarly spicy. Every breeze brought heavier currents of it. He could practically taste it on his tongue, the thick sweetness of it only making him more delirious. He opened his mouth and breathed deeply.

The girl slid a hand down her stomach into the waist of her tights. Jacob did so much more than that in his fantasy. Spreading her slit, he plunged two fingers into the slick heat of her pussy. She was so ready for him…

Jacob could already feel his muscles starting to tense in preparation for release. If this Rut thing was going to happen a lot he'd need a better way to deal with it; jerking off wasted enough time every day as it was.

In his head, the girl clawed at his shoulders and bucked her hips, tensing around his fingers. Although he’d never heard her speak, she moaned his name and wriggled her tights down her thighs to give him better access. In the clearing, she slid a hand up her wifebeater and fabric rippled as she thumbed a nipple.

Jacob shifted rigidly, his knees grinding into the dirt under the leaf litter as he altered his body angle slightly, finding just the right spot, and... there! The heat contracted into a single bright spot. Jacob panted, sweat sticking his loose hair to his forehead as he stared into the clearing. In his head, the girl threw her body up against him as she came hard around his fingers with a scream. He tightened his grip and jerked in a single smooth stroke from root to tip.

A light breeze ruffled his hair. The wind had shifted again. Jacob went rigid when a nauseatingly familiar scent hit his nose.

He doubled over as arousal soured into the urge to vomit.

 _'Vampire!_ '

Release forgotten, he leapt backward free of his tree to scan the woods mid-phase, landing on four paws. He glared into the darkness, trying to locate the offending leech. His upper lip retracted to bare gums.

Nothing moved. The blur of the trees was dark and still except the ruffling of the wind in the canopy. He swung his head back to the clearing.

Movement in the forest on the far side: stalking closer to the light,  the vampire came into focus. He looked familiar. Jacob searched his memories as he lurched into a half-crouched posture of aggression, still concealed by his tree. The vampire tipped his head, and a handful of dreadlocks slipped over his shoulder.

Recognition struck: Jacob had seen the bloodsucker in town last year, leering at passersby from a bench near the marina with a redheaded woman; smelled his scent just this morning.

The male hunkered in the shadow of a spreading pine, watching the girl's every move with blatant hunger. His posture as he crouched made him look more animal than one of the pack.

The girl had pulled out her pigtails and was shaking them loose with rhythmic tosses of her head timed to the music. The vampire’s eyes followed as she swayed her torso closer to the grass, walking her fingers down the front of her thighs as she bent from the hip.

Jacob calculated the respective distances between them and realized that, if it came down to it, the vampire would reach her before Jacob would. And here was the clincher: the vamp knew Jacob was here. As the girl bent her ribs to her knees, he met Jacob’s stare over her back and his eyes flashed.

It had to be Jacob’s night or something. The only dry stick in Washington; the only person in Forks a vampire had decided to target. It occurred to Jacob, as he studied the impasse with growing consternation, that the girl was dancing along the treaty boundary line. Did the loner know about the treaty? Either way if Jacob could get to her, he could protect her. How though? He needed to be phased to defend against the leech. But if he simply jumped out of the undergrowth, she'd freak and run in the other direction: straight into the waiting arms of a ravenous bloodsucker.

Puzzling over this, he shot a silent snarl at the vampire, who bared his teeth in response. They stared each other down in a mute battle for dominance, all the while both keeping an eye on the twisting shadow-figure in the clearing—who still hadn't sensed anything. Weird, given it seemed like she’d picked up on _Jacob_ almost immediately. Jacob almost pitied her that oblivion. Or envied, maybe.

He drew his upper lip back over his fangs and glared across the clearing, thinking quickly. The vampire rose to take a noiseless step toward the clearing. A lull in the music dropped ambient sound to nil.

Jacob tensed—but the girl went rigid. Her head flicked around like a wet towel aimed at a patch of bare skin and suddenly she was casing the surrounding trees with wide eyes and bared teeth of her own. She teetered on the edge of flight. Fear drenched the sweet smell that had been blowing past Jacob's little hollow—and all of it overpowered by the domineering stink of vampire.

She knew. Jacob wasn't sure how exactly, but somehow, she knew.

Odd. Even he hadn't heard the immortal move.

Without even grabbing her speakers, she bolted—straight into the vamp's iron hold. She rebounded with the force of her leap. He latched onto her upper arms with the speed of a bear trap springing and put all his teeth on show. _Gotcha_ , they seemed to say.

The fear scent vanished. To Jacob's complete surprise, she didn't scream. She did cock her arm and drive the heel of her palm square into the guy’s nose. Jacob winced at the loud crunch as something in her hand cracked. Now she screamed.

As she cried out in pain, the vampire gave her a malevolent smile and _loomed_. The girl bent backwards as he pushed her down.

Cradling her hand, she twisted and jammed her shoulder into his sternum. The bloodsucker pushed her away and thumped her, back first, into his body, locking her arms against her sides with an arm like an iron band around her waist. He freed a hand of his own. Knotted into her hair, it wrenched her head to the side, stretching her neck until the tendons stood out. Dinner was served.

He dropped his head.

Jacob howled and surged across the clearing. Ten feet away, he resumed attack posture: shoulders high, chest expanding as he puffed up. The vampire narrowed his eyes.

Jacob’s hackles stood up and his ears flattened against his skull, but he stood his ground. Copping a faceful of fear scent again, he dipped his head into offensive position, lips straining back from his gums. The vampire raised his chin and gritted out a sharp response.

The girl struggled all the harder against him, but his grip didn't loosen—his fingers dug into her upper arm so hard white patches were spreading around his fingertips. The predator himself ignored her, hissing territorially at Jacob. He was holding the girl between himself and the wolf. Unable to look up at him she stared slantways at Jacob, her eyes wide again above a grimace.

Jacob jolted half a step forward with a choppy growl. The loner took a step back—dragging the girl with him. Here Jacob got his opening: the vamp had stepped over a raised root to retreat, and the girl unexpectedly got her feet onto it. She bent her legs and used it as a spring-board. Distracted by Jacob and unprepared for the shove, the vampire tripped over a second root.

The jolt of impact loosened the bloodsucker’s hold. The girl scrambled away the instant she regained her feet, her hand clutched to her chest, and sprinted for the satchel on the ground beside the speakers.

Only down for a moment, the leech leapt after her. Jacob went to follow.

The vampire skidded to a halt when she whirled with the camera and blinded him with the flash. Jacob’s own night-sight went spotty. There was a scrabble of plastic, a whimper, then a snarl.

When his vision cleared he pulled up short. Well.

The camera discarded at her feet, the girl was squared off against the bloodsucker with an orange canister in her hands and the fierce light of terror and threat her eyes. Jacob had seen bear spray before but never met anyone goofy enough to use it for real. Or pull it on a vampire. He didn’t even know if it would work on a bloodsucker. The canister flashed dully in the moonlight but she looked dead serious about using it. Jacob noted the bloodsucker had drawn back half a step—for the first time, Jacob saw uncertainty battling with the hunger in his eyes. Jacob guessed _the vamp_ didn’t know if being maced would work on him.

Jacob’s eyes skipped to the girl. Her left hand was positioned awkwardly around the canister; her right clutched to her chest. The strain showed in the sweat that sprung up around her hairline. Jacob noted pain etched in the new lines around her eyes – heard the crunch as bone scraped on bone. The canister weaved an unsteady figure-8 in the air. The girl flinched the vamp tilted his weight onto his front foot as if to step toward her, but didn’t yield her ground. The pain of a broken hand seemed to be outweighed by the idea of painful death at the hands of the undead. It occurred to Jacob to wonder why the hell she _knew_ about leeches – or if she really understood what was going on. Maybe it was just years of Bear Aware and Stranger Danger lessons kicking through the adrenaline.

He snorted a lupine laugh at the leech's expression. The uncertainty was gone. Why she though Bear Spray was functional enough to tote around, Jacob had no idea, but it was worth the confusion just to see the frustration on the leech's face. He wasn't interested in a tough meal, clearly.

Scowling, the dark-skinned vamp eyeing the canister now aimed steadily at his eyes. She resettled her trigger finger and exhaled through her nose, nostrils flaring. Her shoulders lowered an inch as her jaw tightened.

Irrationally, another little voice popped up in Jacob’s mind, this one like Jared: ‘ _Tonight we dine in Hell!’_

He stifled it with difficulty and ducked his head a little deeper.

The bloodsucker’s eyes drifted from the girl to the wolf hulking a few metres away with its own fangs bared. Finally, it seemed he decided it wasn't worth the risk: he left with a bitter hiss at Jacob.

The tiny snaps and rustles of his passing in the forest faded within moments. The tableau in the clearing remained motionless for some minutes more, both waiting to see if he would return. At length, the girl relaxed. The normal night-time noises had resumed: cicadas chirruping, rustling feathers. Their return tipped the werewolf off to something. He could have smacked himself. Of course she’d known something was up: moments before the bloodsucker appeared, the forest noises went silent. The speakers had nearly blotted them out entirely, but now that Jacob was aware of them, they were nearly deafening in their omnipresence. The rumble from his own chest dropped off as he listened.

In the middle distance he heard the muted woosh of air as an owl swooped down on something. Leaves rustled as something else foraged. But no sounds of a vampire returning.

Satisfied that the threat was ended Jacob turned his yellow eyes to the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've split it here because I'm increasingly uncomfortable with this story but I'm unwilling to delete it out of hand.  
> From here there are two options: 
> 
> if extreme dubcon/rape really isn't your thing and you choose to believe Angela is smart with good common sense, I recommend you skip over to 'Rubicon', (Part 2 of Twice A year) which is the continuity for the rest of the series.
> 
> if you'd rather read the story as written, continue on to Chapter 2.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: ahead be severe squick and rape.

The girl swung to face Jacob, raising the canister that had dipped after the vampire left the clearing. Her chest was heaving with the effort and adrenaline. Jacob could actually smell it thrumming, acrid and thick, through her veins.

He shook his head in the rough equivalent of a 'no'. It took her a moment, but, warily, she lowered the canister. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Now that they were open, Jacob could see they were brown—although they looked black in the low light. He’d definitely seen that face somewhere. Clouds were rolling back in over the moon. To his night sight, everything looked greyed. Darkened.

They stood and stared at one another for what felt like a century. Jacob’s back leg began to itch. Before he could break the truce and risk upsetting her again though, she cocked her head and backed up a careful step. Then another. Four more took her back to the discarded bag. With no movement from him (seemingly discounted him as a threat) she half-turned to start shoving things into her backpack. One eye stayed on him the whole time.

Jacob relaxed out of his quasi-crouch and raised his head. What, a giant wolf wasn't as scary as a geisha reject with bad teeth and a blood habit? He wondered if he should be offended.

" _Don't be aroused... by my confession_ ," husked the radio, " _unless you don't give a good God_ damn _about redemption.._."

She glanced back it and snorted under her breath. Her scent was shifting again, possibly similar to Jacob's automatic relaxation now that the threat was gone. He wondered if she knew. He tilted his head and eyed the girl curiously. The unnamable scent was back, teasing at his memory—but he still just couldn't place it. It continued to elude him. He narrowed his eyes at her. So familiar...

Flicking a fold of hair off her shoulder, she turned to reach for the speakers and jumped with a startled squeak. She hadn't heard Jacob padding up, clearly. Now he was right in front of her. She stood religiously still, monitoring him with animal wariness in her eyes. He could smell her. But… It was different to before. Heavier. Sweeter, if that was possible. Inviting.

Memory clicked into place. Jacob was having a lot of luck with that, lately. Sam again. Good old Sam. Now Jacob remembered that scent. He'd picked it up on Sam after the Alpha had returned from visiting Emily.

This girl smelt like _arousal_. Residual arousal, granted, but...

He lowered his head to her crotch, ears flicking forward in interest, and nuzzled her. She stiffened.

He was here now—halfway to his fantasy already. A puff of spicy-sweet stained the air around her hips. Jacob made a low noise in his throat at the replying spark that skittered from his nose to his groin. His fur stood on end, ears straining toward every small sound in her throat.

A small part of his mind whispered that this was wrong, but how likely was he to get this chance again? She was here, and he was here, and she knew about vampires—logically, that should have meant she knew about shapeshifters too, but she didn’t seem to know how to treat Jacob. She was reacting to him as though he was a wild animal—an extraordinarily _big_ wild animal. Another welter of the scent crashed over Jacob’s senses and sent his mind careening off over the rainbow. He decided she could think of him however she liked, just so long as she didn’t go running off. In this state he’d have to chase her. He didn’t think she’d enjoy that.

He nosed her crotch a second time, pushing up against her with a bit more force. A tremor ran through her legs.

Or maybe she’d enjoy being chased immensely… A grasping heat was swiftly rekindling low in his hips. Certainly _he’d_ enjoy it. Perhaps he could persuade her to run…?

His back leg twitched and he pressed his nose harder into her crotch. The girl whimpered. That was her first sign of fear. If he tried to make her run, she’d probably fall down again and cry, and even a Jacob half-out of his mind with… whatever this was, wasn’t so much of a monster that he’d let a girl cry and actively make it worse. His eyes and ears filled with screaming white noise as a vision hit him with all the force of Paul in a rage:

Grab that pitiful wifebeater, shred it off her in pieces. Her tights would follow in ragged mouthfuls that abrade his tongue as she tried to crawl away. Her screams. Begging. Crying. Pleading not to be hurt. Words that barely make sense to Jacob through the wall of fire burning off every synapse. Salt churned into the syrup of fear and arousal. The taste of it running down her thighs. No underwear. Just tights. The pink slit between her legs beckoning. Jumble of insensate sounds spewed in a broken sob. (Doesn’t even _scrape_ the wall of flame.) Pieces of her tights spat in random directions. Muscles bunching as he leaps after her. Blood in his mouth as he bites into her shoulder, her screaming again, clawing at his snout. Her falling forward when he releases her to kick her back legs apart. His tail thrashing. (If she held still it would hurt less.) He had to push her hips up with his nose because the stupid bitch had forgotten her instincts—mating instincts. (Everyone had them.) His hips pressing against her. Aligning. He had to let her shoulder go for this; hopes she appreciates that. Deep toothmarks ringing her shoulder blade. Blood welling up. Running down her spine. He didn’t think about fitting inside; he was male, she was naked and wet for him. The feel her against the base of his erection. Wet smears from the head of it on her stomach. What more did she need? Pull back. Tense. Thrust in. Her screams; muscles gone rigid. White behind his eyes. Static in his ears. _Screaming_. Stopitstopitstopit stop _screaming_ —it hurts his skull, can’t you feel how good this feels, how delirious, how—

Jacob shook the picture out of his head. A shudder ripped through him. Electricity surged down the same trails as before, strongest in the building throb in his groin. He should have been badly shaken by that image. He should’ve felt sick.

But all he could taste was her blood and the tingling hint of _something_ from the crotch of her tights. He imagined for a second that he could actually still feel her writhing, slick, against his erection—or further, squeezing around him, so tight he thought he might pass out if he didn’t move instead.

As heady as the vision was – and it was near-maddening to resist the draw of having her so fast, so violently – he pushed it back. Burrowing into his concentration. Trying to escape the rising drive to rip, tear, _fuck_ , by pouring all his focus into her. He wanted to get her naked—not _kill_ _her_ getting his rocks off. The bloodsuckers might be hot for necrophilia, but Jacob had somehow never seen the appeal.

But even while he was lost in the rut’s mirages, the girl hadn’t stirred. She was still staring down at him. And the smell of her arousal still lingered—no longer faint, but strengthening by the minute. Why? This strange arousal had to be looked into further.

Okay, so she’d been dancing. Touching herself. Feeling her own breasts, sensing her own nipples grow hard against her palm, sliding a hand down her pants to slide a finger into her pussy—Jacob nearly lost himself into another retroactive fantasy of striding into the clearing while she danced, before the leech had interrupted, this time foregoing the wolf-form and just throwing them both down in the grass as humans and fucking each other raw.

His vision went blurry for a second. The first scenario was looking better and better—that was bad. Neither would be okay in the morning. Neither would let him look himself in the eye. (Ever.)

He ought to stop—ought to leave, before he got in trouble with this girl _or_ his Alpha. But he couldn’t. Not with the way she looked at him in his fantasies. Not with the way his hard-on was demanding they get to know her intimately, in the _real world_ , _right-fucking-now._

Had to focus! Had to distract! He couldn’t leave, but he couldn’t skip to the end. If he tried, he’d have no way to hit _stop_ ; _fast-forward_ would just keep on going until he was coming back to himself fully human, body smeared with blood and his cock drenched in it.

Her. The girl. She was his ticket out of this. His instincts were taking over—so he had to direct them into being consumed solely by the girl. Fascinated by her, they wouldn’t destroy her. Besides his own blinding lust, there was hers: the scent of her, now readily identifiable as arousal in its own right, was slowly boring holes through his skull. Jacob was gripped by the need to intensify it enough to drown him. Drown in her, not in himself.

All of his senses amped up to eleven as blood flooded his skull and everything went into overdrive. The heavy bass of the music pounded in his ears, blood stuck on endless loop between his eyes – fogging them with red – and his crotch. Every leaf rustling was an aluminium sheet, every jump of the girl’s pulse in her throat – thumping nearly in time to the music still thrumming at the back of his awareness – a drumbeat.

Jacob gripped the front of her tights in his teeth and pulled at them. The lycra resisted for a second, clinging to her hips, but she had, so accommodatingly to his fantasy, edged them down while she was dancing. He was sure she’d regret that that, but he couldn’t have hoped for better—unless she wanted to strip for him. He worked them off her hips and down to her calves.

The girl made a noise of protest as he yanked at them and went to pull away, leaning backward. Jacob’s wolf side was inches from fully dominating his human side— and it resented the idea of losing of its plaything. As a hand gripped his ruff to push him away, he allowed a growl to rumble through his chest. The hand retracted instantly.

He gave the tights a shake, jostling her. She went still. Desperation was warring with fear in the play of her leg muscles next to his muzzle; a hand hovered over the side of his head as though she wanted to try pushing him away again, but it was shakily withdrawn. Jacob gave the lycra another sharp tug and the girl overbalanced.

Tangled in her pants, she fell backwards her near-bare ass in the grass. She released a sharp cry as her wrist jolted. Oblivious, Jacob pawed the tights off one of her feet, although he half expected her to make a grab for them. She was in too much shock. Her movements stopped when he got one of the legs off and nosed it to the other side before looking up her expectantly. She simply stared at him, her mouth open, chest expanding and contracting rapidly. Her legs fell apart without the tights to hold them together. Jacob swayed as scent slapped him in the face like a tidal wave. He took half a step forward and the girl squeaked—she choked off half of the sound by biting her lip, her eyes widening as she clasped her wrist to her stomach protectively.

Disappointing to Jacob’s imagination, she _was_ wearing panties—little black cotton boy-leg things. With her tights around one ankle, she wore only the panties and the grey wifebeater-- creased from her grasping and pulling. Jacob recalled the way he had shredded that wifebeater off her in the Rut-fantasy, and recoiled from tearing at it like he’d wanted to. It had frightened him as much as it had turned him on—he didn’t want to start acting it out. With the thoughts though came another surge of the drive to simply loom over her as she lay there. The wolf didn’t care that the fantasy meant fucking her bloody. It just meant _fucking her_ , tearing off those little black panties, slurping out whatever wetness was gathered between her thighs, hunkering down and thrusting forward. Making her scream—this time with pleasure.

Wrapping her legs around his hips.

Coaxing her into tightening as hard as she could around his cock, milking him.

For one brief second, the Rut won out. Jacob lunged forward and snatched a mouthful of the crotch of those little black boy-legs. He tore. The girl rebounded to a sitting position like a rubber band, clutching her broken hand to her chest. Without waiting for Jacob to react she went to clamp her legs together. Jacob’s growl resurfaced. She froze.

Now she sat half-upright on her bare ass in the grass, thighs partially spread. Except for that wifebeater, naked as the day she was born. Jacob was leery of the wifebeater but for the rest… Under a neat little puff of dark hair, her pussy lay in shadow, shaded from the moonlight by one of her legs. Jacob had a sudden rush of vertigo. Right there: everything he had thought about. Fantasised. His breathing roughened as the unsteadiness in his legs threatened to spread.

He stepped forward to hide the shake and thrust his muzzle between her thighs. Barefoot and now _genuinely_ half-naked, she shivered as the same breeze that had carried her arousal to Jacob now doused her with chilly air from the returning storm clouds. Jacob noted the goosebumps running up her thighs in stark definition to his heightened sensed, giving them the same fascination he was awarding to everything else: one more texture to be felt out under his tongue and added to the mélange of Girl.

Later, maybe. The girl tensed. For the second time, fear bubbled up from her in a whimper. A sour note whipped through the breeze licking at his nose and Jacob grudgingly lifted his head to lick her face in a show of comfort. The wince might have made him laugh at any other time. Instead the way she screwed up her face wasn't amusing at all; his mind skipped over the grimaces and screams and moans she’d pulled in his fantasies—this was none of the above, but he knew how to get them.

Under her wifebeater, her nipples stood up in the cold. Jacob hesitated as he pulled back from her face and then ran his tongue over one of the cotton-covered nubs.

She jumped. When he drew away, there was a darker streak over her breast. He was looking for a more vocal reaction. The wifebeater was rough against his nose as he pressed deliberately down on her nipple. This time he heard a tiny whimper that didn’t sound quite the same as any of her previous noises. He hadn’t done anything to coax her into compliance since removing her panties. Time to change that. Jacob dropped his nose, abandoning his brief diversion with her clothed breast.

It had to be _her_ that was making this so abnormally arousing. Her smell, her reactiveness. Her taste thick in his mouth although he had yet to so much as touch her—for real, anyway. Ghost-sensations of her clamping down around his fingers reasserted themselves. His erection throbbed with a pulse of its own, putting in the feeling of the Rut’s idea of being inside her, sliding against her insides. Her slick heat.

Jacob was certain he was going slowly crazy inside his own head, despite Sam’s assurance that that had yet to happen to any wolf. This sensory overload would surely send him insane. The girl made an incomprehensible sound over his head but Jacob merely inched his nose closer to the shadowy depression between her legs. She hadn’t tried to kick him in the head yet. Jacob wasn’t ruling it out.

Maybe she thought he’d bite her. Freeze-frames swirled in his head, drawing a whine out of his throat. Well he might. But not like that. He hunkered down and touched his nose to her slit.

The girl arched off the ground like she had been electrified.

Jacob’s logic-centre vacated the building. Its absence made room for the red noise radiating north from southerly regions. That blind urge driving him up, in, fighting against the human side that didn’t want to kill the girl in its struggle to feel her from the inside.

The girl was frozen now, seemingly afraid to move, although she no longer smelled of the acrid, battery-acid stink of fear.

Still, with her unmoving, he couldn’t get further into to the magnetic zone pulling him in. Jacob whined, wanting her to be animated again. His groin pulsed. He wriggled his hips in a vain attempt to ease his discomfort. He hadn’t actually been able to finish before the leech interrupted them— _him_ , Jacob corrected himself. What part in it the girl had played was probably unknown to her.

Huh: no more vampire, magically reappearing sex-drive. He’d laugh about that later – make a joke of it for Embry, maybe – but right then he was preoccupied: more important things. He lifted his head again to peer up at her face, and her eyes were locked onto his muzzle—perilously close to her. The idea that she was watching him work her over was a powerful kick to Jacob’s human side. A shudder went through him. The second pulse in his groin strengthened. He jammed his nose into her crotch again and flicked his tongue out in an experimental lick.

Her muscles pulsed in front of his nose. Simultaneously, her legs shifted apart, giving him more access. But it had to have been involuntary; she was still stiff as a priest’s collar. And her reaction wasn’t strong enough for the wolf—or for Jacob.

He bent his head and gave her a firm lick. The pressure separated her nether lips enough for him to get his first real taste of her arousal. If he had any lingering thoughts of walking away from this, they evaporated.

The girl abruptly found her courage. With a cry, she shoved his head away from her body and scrambled for her feet.

Jacob casually placed an enormous paw on her belly and weighted her down. The other paw was braced against the ground outside her hip, flexing against the grass. That smell was driving him insane, sending waves through his body like an electric pulse. There was a distracting heaviness between his hind legs. He ignored it.

With her firmly locked down again, he leant in, nose to nose with her, and let the low growl rumble out of his chest. He wasn’t doing anything invasive yet. The least she could do was stay still.

Jacob started. That had to be the Rut talking. He’d felt the same way – thought the same way – in that first scene he played out after the bloodsucker’s attack. He didn’t want that—but she was making it hard to think. He didn't really care if she wanted to get away; he wanted to get his tongue around the source of the intoxication that was making his head spin and his groin pulse with the helpless need to feel that wet heat he imagined in the grips of the moment before the vampire. The wolf demanded it. He could barely hear for the blood pounding in his ears, although every quickened breath through the girl’s bruising lips was an icicle cracking off a gutter. He was blind to everything but the hunt for this delirium.

Pushing her legs apart again, he licked again, slowly this time. Her whimper sounded less fearful this time; Jacob rubbed his cheek against her leg in absent encouragement, all his attentions focused solely on that point at the juncture of her legs. Her hips shifted a little uncomfortably, breaking grass turning into snapping balsa wood. She couldn’t actually move though, pinned by his paw. He didn’t think she was going anywhere anyway. This time, he moved in carefully, rolling his tongue up and pushing it past that first bit of resistance blocking him from fully sinking into this taste.

Jacob’s spine arched as the same electricity from before hit him like a bolt of lightning. The girl grabbed his paw with her good hand but Jacob didn’t even notice.

 _Holy fuck._ It was overpowering. Without a thought, he dropped his head back down and stabbed his tongue in the direction of the liquid. The girl tensed, her hips jerking towards his mouth. She made a noise of distress, tugging at his paw. He pushed his tongue into her and curled it, trying to find the best way to get as much as fast as possible. God, she tasted so sweet, and tangy. He could easily get addicted to that. Heat stabbed at him, and the pain would soon be crippling, but he couldn't give this up—not now. The taste was addictive, too addictive; he couldn't get enough of it. He worked his mouth faster, alternating between broad swipes down her slit and pointed digs into her.

She wasn't whimpering now—more like moaning. Jacob could feel her stomach flexing against his paw as she strained against the restraint, writhing but unable to move. A bead of sweat ran down the line of her neck as it arched backwards with her struggles, grabbing onto his paw and clutching at him for all she was worth. Confined by the heavy paw on her stomach, she still managed to drive her hips up in time to the rhythm Jacob had set, meet his tongue with synchronized rolls, a groan building in her throat. His nose between her legs, Jacob looked up past his paw to see her face. Her chest was heaving beneath the wifebeater, and her head was thrown back, but as though she could feel his eyes, she dropped her chin and stared down the length of her body at him with cloudy heavy-lidded eyes and flushed face. A wave of heat washed over Jacob. When he touched a tiny hard nub at the top of her pussy on an upstroke, she let out a sharp cry and went totally rigid, arching off the ground forcefully enough to lift Jacob's paw.

He was otherwise occupied: with her orgasm, the flow of the liquid increased dramatically, soaking his nose. Jacob whuffled happily and lapped up all of it. Satisfied he'd gotten every bit, he sat up and licked his nose clean, looking up at her expectantly.

As the tension faded from her body, girl went limp and started to cry. Jacob removed the paw but she didn't move, just lay there, tears dribbling down her cheeks and into the grass. She had her eyes squeezed shut again. He could smell the salt.

A vague sense of guilt set it, but it was still more curiosity that prompted him to action. He shuffled forward until he could lick her face.

Beneath him, her heaving gasps pressed her breasts into his ruff, tousling his fur. She’d been so fascinated with her own breasts. Jacob was a little – a lot – fascinated with them himself. So in his vision, tearing her wifebeater had been the gateway to doing so much worse. He’d done okay up until now, hadn’t he? That, and it was coming off _now._

Grasping the wifebeater, he ripped it, shredding the material. The torn halves flopped aside, exposing her chest to the sky. Darker, as he’d thought. Dark brown nipples. A ridged scar to the side of her navel. She’d come so close to being torn apart properly tonight. Damn shame to waste this. She was gorgeous like this, and he told her such with a long lick of his tongue from her navel to sternum, dragging warm wetness over her torso. She hiccupped, chest heaving jerky little breaths as she fought suffocation. She wasn't even looking at him: her eyes were squeezed shut as tears streamed inelegantly down the sides of her face and pooled in her ears and hair.

Jacob barely noticed. Once more diverted by the mundane, he swiped his tongue over one of her breasts. He watched in interest as the nipple pebbled at the extreme contrast between the cold air and his hot mouth.

The throbbing in his groin reasserted itself with a violent demand. This wasn't enough. All right, she'd had her fun. What now?

He had to be closer...deeper. More. He arched his spine, rubbing his erection against her. The girl twitched, but didn't open her eyes. Jacob rumbled an appreciative growl and pressed closer, sliding his hips against her; it felt so good. Better. But still not enough.

The girl's crying came to a hiccuping stop. Alerted to her renewed attention, Jacob glanced up. She was staring at him, wide-eyed. Dark eyes huge, she looked terrified again, fear flooding her scent over and burying her lingering scent of arousal.

Her hands flattened against the ground and her muscles tensed. Damn it: he'd removed the paw. She was going to run. Jacob whined. This still wasn't enough. He wanted to be in her, wanted to feel her around him. But...

He'd hurt her like this. Damn him for a fool, and sometimes he really wished he didn't have moral qualms. But hey. He did. Tough. So: distract the girl. Easy enough.

He swallowed hard, looking her over intently. Hunkering down, he pressed his ribcage to hers, enjoying the sensation of her breasts pushing up against him in rhythm with her frenzied breathing. Fur brushing her bare skin and sending visible goosebumps racing over her body, he licked her neck, nuzzling against her, breathing in the delicious earthy scent about her.

Her eyes squeezed more tightly closed. More tears slid down her face. She didn't sob, though, seemingly resigning herself to her fate.

All right, he thought. She didn't want to look? She didn't have to. Still nuzzling and kneading, he phased.

Human, he ground his hips down on hers and buried his face in her neck. Sure, he hated the idea of a bloodsucker doing that, but her skin was salty and earthy and somehow metallic in his mouth in a way that her come hadn’t been, and he reasoned that one could just as easily be as addictive as the other. Dark marks rose around each place he bit into, purpling with arousing rapidity.

The girl's breath caught in her throat. Dark eyes cracked open at the speed of light but she didn't get more than a glance before she was flinging her head back with a moan. Jacob thrust deliberately against her clit. He chuckled into her neck and allowed his head to be pulled to the side as she grabbed a handful of his hair.

There were distinct advantages to being human, he noted. Opposable thumbs, for one thing. Grinning, Jacob took advantage of having hands to palm one of her breasts. A little smaller than a handful, he amused himself by molding and kneading. He could smell her rising arousal again; less clearly than when he had four paws and a tail but still palpably evident. He grinned outright and palmed her breast roughly. The girl bit back a gasp but she couldn't stop her hips jerking in response. Jacob groaned when the action ground his erection into her. Right.

Procrastinating: bad. Sex now: good.

Hissing in a tight breath, he positioned himself at her entrance and thrust in one smooth motion. The sensation just about made him pass out. The girl arched up into him with a wordless cry. Her hands flew to his shoulders. If he’d still been a regular guy, he’d have fingerprint bruises everywhere. The echo from his fantasy made Jacob dizzy, but he didn’t dare move yet. He’d made it so far. Why stop now?

When he recovered his composure, he shifted his weight onto his arms and began to thrust. Everything but the need to alleviate the ache burning up his insides faded out into a screaming blur. Sweat dripped off his nose and he stared down at the girl writhing beneath him in a state of bemused ecstasy and had the sudden strange thought that he couldn't have wished for a more attractive view.

For her part, the girl twisted and ground up against him, groaning fit to drive him insane. Flexing her hips, she pushed up to meet him in ragged countertime. Her injured hand was thrown out to the side. Pleasure battled the pain across her face. She let out a sharp moan when he accidently brushed that same swollen nub from before. The same legs he’d had his head buried between before wrapped around his waist, thighs tensing against his sides. The feeling was enough to tell him that if she ever got a kick in, it was going to really hurt.

'Let's see what this does...'

Jacob adjusted his angle to hit the nub every other stroke. Her keening rose to a scream. Smirking, he bent his torso over her and gripped her shoulders for better leverage. His rhythm became more and more erratic as the release that escaped him before began to coil in low in his abdomen. Pressure built at the base of his spine.

Knotted around his hips, the girl's legs tensed up. The rest of her body arched like a bow as she came with a choked-off grunt of surprise. Jacob groaned at the feeling of her tensing core. She spasmed around him.

The added constriction was all he needed. Something in him burst. Jacob gave a hoarse cry and arched his back as he came, releasing inside her.

Jacob’s arms gave out. He collapsed onto her heaving chest.

A second later she started to struggle and he hazily realised what the problem was. He half-rolled away onto he side. The girl went limp again. Eyes closed, Jacob focused on recovering enough to stand. Then maybe to run.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Rubicon' (part 2 of Twice A Year) is an alternate ending of this where Angela maces Jacob after Laurent flees, and the rape never happens. I like that ending a lot more. If you want to scrub the ending in this from your brain, I recommend you go check that out too, and pretend this was a bad dream.


End file.
